Tequila and Car Thieves
by Cerulean Apocalypse
Summary: Mickey's quiet life in Mexico is interrupted when Jimmy/Steve shows up in his favorite bar. Bad singing, self-discovery, sexual experimentation, and drunken rants about exes ensue. Mentions of Gallavich, and Jimmy/Fiona. Rated T for language and mentions of sex (but nothing explicit). Oneshot.


Author's Note: So like most of the other Shameless fans out there, I was trying to construct elaborate schemes for Mickey and Ian reuniting. I had a really grand plan for a fic where Mickey has this spectacular moment in Mexico where he goes through all this great character development and finds himself in the right emotional state to go back to Ian, and then they fall back in love and it's all wonderful and romantic and all that, but then I realized that I just don't have the time on my hands to write something as extensive as that fic would have to be in order to be canonically realistic. So, here's a short step on the journey instead. I thought it would be cool to see Mickey interacting with some of the other non-Gallagher characters, so here's a fairly short one where he has drinks and a heart-to-heart with Jimmy/Steve.

Disclaimer: I don't own Shameless. Or the song 'The Luck you Got' by the High Strung.

When Mickey walked into the local bar one day several months after his escape to Mexico, he really just wanted a drink. Rina had gotten him a job working as a mechanic at an auto shop attached to a large resort, mostly catering to Americans. Not the most exciting job in the world, but it was okay because working with cars was one of his (admittedly limited) legal skills. And he'd used the money that that redheaded motherfucking piece of shit ex of his left him to pay for several months of rent at a small bungalow.

It was pretty boring, but at least the locals grew some good weed and didn't seem to mind him. A couple of the men who worked at the resort occasionally invited him to play in mostly-drunken soccer matches with them.

So he walked into Tio's one day, expecting another quiet night, and sat himself at the bar. Glancing around, he noticed the usual crowd: Rosa and Salma playing pool in the back, Xavier behind the bar, Bill and Juan sitting at their usual table, and a few others. He went up to get a beer and sat on his usual stool, only to notice that there was someone staring at him.

"Qué el coño está mirando?" snapped Mickey.

"Um, what?" asked the guy. It was a dark-haired white guy, clearly American, and probably only a few years older than Mickey was. "I don't know what that means, but I do know who you are, even with the blond wig."

Mickey scowled. "First off, this is my fucking natural color. Second of all—" his eyes narrowed. "Wait. You're that guy. Steve. I mean Jimmy. Fuck. You're Fiona Gallagher's ex!"

"Yeah," admitted Jimmy/Steve. "And you're Mickey Milkovich, from the South Side of Chicago. Why are you here?"

Mickey shrugged. "Broke out of prison."

"Oh, cool," said Jimmy/Steve nonchalantly.

"I thought you were in Dubai or some shit?" asked Mickey, vaguely remembering hearing the story from Fiona.

"Nah, that was a one-time thing. I'm basically done with that line of work now, I'm sort of just passing through. How've you been?"

"Alright. It's kinda quieter here, but it's not too bad. Least it's warm."

"Yeah, I see what you mean," agreed Jimmy. "So is Ian here then?"

At the mention of Ian, Mickey scowled. "Nah. Tried to get him to come, but he dipped out at the last minute."

"Shit, sorry. I guess I just thought that you guys were a package deal."

"Yeah, well. Stuff happens. I'm still pretty fucking pissed about the whole thing since it was his fucking fault I was in prison anyway, but fuck it. I'm done thinking about that. I guess I would have ended up in prison whether I started fucking him or not, y'know? At least he helped me get across the border." It might not have been the most eloquent speech in the world, but as Mickey said it, he realized how true it was. He might not be completely over Ian, and maybe he would never be. But it had at least brought him to a decent place.

Jimmy nodded. "Nah, I get that. You want to get a drink or something? Fill me in on whatever Southside drama I missed?"

Mickey smirked a little, his weirdly introspective mood dissipating quickly. Jimmy/Steve was a bit of an oddball, but at least from what he remembered the guy was a funny drunk. And despite having Cal, Rina, and the villagers around, he realized he kind of missed hanging out with people his own age, who actually spoke the same language. "Yeah, alright."

..~0~..

Mickey had just planned to take a shot or shot, but tequila is cheap and Jimmy insists on paying. As they get progressively drunker, Mickey starts to let his guard down. So does Jimmy/Steve.

"I know it's weird to say, but I tried living on the straight and narrow. And you know what? It fucking sucks," says Jimmy, a little unsteadily.

Mickey throws back another shot. "I don't even fucking know how to do that. Didn't you grow up all rich and fancy with your daddy always getting you what you want?"

J

immy scowls. "Yeah, but then he expected too fucking much. I was supposed to be this perfect fucking robot like my dickhead brother. Go to medical school, be a cardiotho-whatever surgeon."

"Yeah, well, your dad was an asshole. And a pedophile. He fucked Ian once."

Jimmy groaned and banged his head on the table. "Stop! Aaargh! Fuck you, now I can't stop picturing Ian's dick in my dad's mouth!"

"How do you think I feel? He was my boyfriend!" complained Mickey. He paused.

"Although I have to say, he did a pretty good job of sewing up my ass after your mom shot me."

Jimmy smirked a little. "Dude, do you realize how wrong all that just sounded?"

"Right? Glad we're out of the South Side, that place was fucking nuts."

"It wasn't the South Side, Mickey," said Jimmy grimly. He signaled to the bartender for another tequila shot and threw it back. "It was those fucking Gallaghers that were the problem." He frowned at the bar, reflecting deeply on the truth of what he had just said.

Mickey actually laughed. "Oh come on, man. Have you even met anyone else on the South Side? The Gallaghers aren't any more fucked up than the rest of the neighborhood, and they're nowhere close to being as bad as some of us. Pretty sure people say the local crime rate jumps 10% every time a Milkovich is born."

"Wow, really? That's actually impressive. Even for your son?"

Mickey frowned. "Is it bad that I haven't actually thought of him in a while?"

"I don't know. Wait, is he actually yours?"

"Didn't think so at first," admitted Mickey. "But he looks a hell of a lot like I did when I was his age, so probably." He picked up his glass and swirled the contents around moodily.

"Yeah, I guess if Liam Gallagher can be Frank and Monica's kid, anything's possible."

"Stop talking about the fucking Gallaghers. Fucking pieces of shit."

"Yeah. Fuck them," agreed Jimmy.

"Not Liam though. He's a good kid. I'm glad his brain still works after Fiona OD'd him on coke."

"Yeah, that kid's gonna be the on to make it out of the ghetto."

"Ay, watch what you fucking say. It's a ghetto but it's _my_ fucking ghetto. Fucking Northside fuck."

"Wow, Mickey, what an extensive vocabulary."

Mickey glared at him and flipped him off. Jimmy, the insolent motherfucker, actually laughed. "Hey, fucking stop that. You wanna get hit?"

"Nah, man. It's just funny that people don't change. You move to a whole other country, come out of the fucking closet, and then go and bleach your hair blond and you still act the same, talk the same, have the same mannerisms—"

"I told you, blond is my natural color. Second, how the fuck do you notice that shit?" interrupted Mickey.

"What?"

"Look man, I know who you are and all that, but it's not like we really _know_ each other. I only really paid attention to you when I realized your dad was fucking Ian."

Jimmy shuddered. "Can we not talk about that?"

"Okay fine, but seriously, how the fuck did you notice all that shit about me?" demands Mickey.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you. So after the first time I left Chicago, after I married Estefania, and made up with Fiona, but before Monica slit her wrists at Thanksgiving—"

"Okay, okay, I get the time frame thing, fucking get to the point," said Mickey.

"Alright, alright. So somewhere along then, Fiona told me that Ian was gay. And I was all, 'I thought he was dating Mandy', and she was like, 'no, she's just his beard'. So I realized, that's really nice of Mandy and all, but he spent a lot of time hanging out with her. And Fiona said that she was pretty sure Ian was friends with you too."

"Yeah, we worked together over at Towel Head's."

Jimmy frowned. "That's racist, Mickey. But anyway, I was all, 'oh, are they like friends with benefits', and Fiona laughed and was like 'I hope not, their dad is a notorious homophobe, and besides, he doesn't seem gay'. And I was like, 'well if his dad's a notorious homophobe, he's obviously going to act completely opposite to how a stereotypical gay dude would'. And she was all, 'oh shit, you have a point'."

"Shit," said Mickey. "So you guys knew?"

"Well, we didn't know for sure until Ian got all upset about you marrying a whore, but I got kidnapped by angry Brazilians around then so I lost track of your drama. But after we talked about it, I noticed you more. Not in a weird way," Jimmy clarified hastily as Mickey raised his eyebrows in preparation to make a snarky comment. "But yeah, Fiona and I were just trying to figure out if it was real or not. Then I started trying to annoy her by trying to figure out who was the top in the relationship."

Jimmy waved at the bartender, who passed them two more shots. They each threw one back without comment.

By now, they were both very, very drunk. And so, a conversation that never would have occurred otherwise occurred.

"I'm the bottom," offered Mickey bluntly.

Jimmy nodded. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Fiona disagreed because you have more of an aggressive personality, but I told her that was bullshit. I experimented a little in college, and I realized it _was_ the more aggressive dudes that like to bottom."

This was news to Mickey, although he guessed he wasn't so surprised. "What do you mean by 'experimented'?"

"Y'know, I've kissed dudes here and there. Never been a relationship with one or gotten fucked up the ass or whatever, but I guess I could say I'm like a1 or 2 on the Kinsey scale."

"The fuck is a Kinsey scale? Is that your size in women's pants or something?"

"No, it's a way of rating how gay you are on a scale of 0 to 6. So a 0 would be completely straight, a 6 is completely gay, then there's bisexual, kind of gay, kind of straight, you get the point," Jimmy flapped his hand expressively to demonstrate the spectrum of possible sexualities and nearly fell off the bar stool.

Mickey stared at him, looking confused. "What number am I then?"

Jimmy stared back, trying to gauge the complex question of Mickey's sexuality. "Do you like fucking girls?"

"I can do it if I have to but I can only get off if I really have to. Like if my dad is threatening me with a handgun. That's how I have Yemeny. I mean Yevnenny. Fucking commie Svet namin' my fucking kid things I can't fucking say. Fuck."

Jimmy patted Mickey on the shoulder, attempting to be consoling. "I'm sorry, bro. Your dad sounds like a fucking dick. My dad's a fucking dick too. Didn't he get you shot in the ass once?"

"Nah, that was your mom. Your dad actually fixed it up. Wanna see?" asked Mickey, smirking again.

Jimmy giggled. "Are you propositioning me?"

Mickey thought about it. "Maybe."

"I bet it would make the Gallaghers soooo mad if they knew we fucked each other."

Jimmy waved the bartender, who passed them another two shots. They clinked glasses and threw them back in silence.

"I mean, I haven't been laid in a while," said Mickey.

"I've done amal- I mean anal with chicks before, it shouldn't be that different."

They regarded each other briefly and very drunkenly, until Jimmy slid off the bar stool and offered his arm to Mickey. Mickey shook his head. "Yo, that's so fuckin' gay," he muttered, but took it anyway. They stumbled out of the bar together.

"You know what else is gay?" asked Jimmy. "Singing." He started belting out the words to an old song that he used to listen to with Fiona. "THINK OF ALL THE LUCK YOU GOT!"

Mickey rolled his eyes but joined in. "KNOW THAT IT'S NOT FOR NAUGHT!"

They strolled down the street, arm in arm, screaming the words tunelessly.

"YOU WERE BEAMING ONCE BEFORE, BUT IT'S NOT LIKE THAT, ANYMORE!" wailed Jimmy.

"WHAT IS THIS DOWNSIDE, THAT YOU SPEAK OF, WHAT IS THIS FEELING YOU'RE SOOOO SURE OF!"

Then they sang the guitar solo part, gestating wildly for effect. "Ner _ner_ ner _ner_ , ner ner ner _ner,_ ba da da da da da da!"

"Round up the friends you got!" cried Mickey, flinging his arm around Jimmy.

"Know that they're not for naught!" sang Jimmy.

"YOU WERE WILLING ONCE BEFORE, BUT IT'S NOT LIKE THAT, ANYMORE!"

Finally, they got to Mickey's place, and stumbled in. They started yanking their clothes off, but just as Jimmy pulled his pants down, exposing his butt, Mickey yelled "Wait! We have to finish the song!"

Jimmy nodded seriously and they belted out the final chorus. "WHAT IS THE DOWNSIDE, THAT YOU SPEAK OOOOO-OOF! WHAT IS THIS FEELING YOU'RE SOOOOO SURE OOOOF!"

..~0~..

Mickey woke up first the next morning, and was at first slightly confused to see the man next to him. As memories of the previous night slowly came back to him, he couldn't help but feel surprised at how okay he felt. It was sort of like the feeling he'd had at the Alibi the day after he came out. It was like he'd been expecting the worst and ready to lash out at the world, only to find out that the rest of the world didn't really care that much.

He'd been trying so hard to start anew and not think about his past. Hell, for the past few months he couldn't even bring himself to be in the vicinity of the occasional red-haired traveler passing through. But when part of his past had come back to him in the form of Jimmy/Steve (he still wasn't completely sure which it was), he'd found that slowly but surely, it had stopped being so painful.

So he sort of just shrugged and went to make coffee.

Jimmy came wandering into the kitchen area a bit later, looking toward Mickey cautiously as if worried that Mickey would get angry or start throwing stuff at him.

"Hey, man," said Mickey. "You want any coffee before you head out?"

Jimmy looked visibly relieved. "Sure."

Mickey noticed his expression. "You know, I'm not a fucking pitbull. Just 'cause I I've been around cell block D of juvie a few times, doesn't mean I'm fucking uncivilized."

Jimmy smiled a little. "I learned that lesson a while ago—later than I should have, but I figured it out. I was more worried about what you'd say about last night."

"I mean, you can't fucking carry a tune, but neither can I."

"Yeah, but I meant everything that happened after the singing."

Mickey raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, what about it? Oh God, you're not gonna get attached to me like some psycho bitch, are you? Because the sex was good but we're definitely not each other's type."

Jimmy shook his head. "Oh, fuck no. Definitely would not have happened if I was sober. But I have to say, that was a good time. Maybe I'm higher on the Kinsey scale than I thought."

"And Fiona Gallagher turns another guy gay," commented Mickey.

Jimmy nearly choked on his coffee. "What are you talking about?"

"Last time I saw Ian, he told me Tony the Cop came out because of her."

Jimmy scowled. "You're making that up."

"I'm not. Maybe Ian was, but I don't know. He arrested me one time and looking back on it, his gun was definitely on his back pocket, there's no fucking way it could have been poking into me."

"That fucker," muttered Jimmy.

Mickey just laughed. "Alright man, watch out for him if you get back to the States, maybe he was actually in love with you."

"Shut up, Mickey."

"Do you think he's a top or a bottom?"

"Fuck you, I'm leaving now."

"Alright, take care man."

"See ya, Mickey."

They shook hands and parted ways.

..~0~..

Author's Note: Hope you guys enjoyed this! Again, the point of this story is not that I ship Mickey/JimmySteve, but that neither of them is the same person he was at the start of the show. Please leave a review telling me if I should write another fic like this, maybe one where Mickey hangs out with Sheila or about who Rina is?


End file.
